


King of the Casino

by DisneyPhantomlover



Category: Cuphead (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Mentioned oc - Freeform, Origin Story, a sort of origin story to King Dice and how he sold his soul to the Devil, very tempted to continue this if there's interest, well lost his soul is more like
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-22 10:35:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13165140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DisneyPhantomlover/pseuds/DisneyPhantomlover
Summary: Why did King Dice decide to sell his soul to The Devil? Or did he lose it like Cuphead and Mugman nearly did their's?Well, it was a mix of both. He knew what he was getting into when he made a bet with the Devil himself.





	King of the Casino

**Author's Note:**

> So this started as a prompt from Rocketman23 on my tumblr.
> 
> "Don't know if this is up your street or not but I wish you write a fic where king dice sells his soul to the devil"
> 
> It's sooooooooo up my alley.

He was under no illusions when he decided to enter the Devil’s casino.

There was a decent reason to avoid making deals with the literal devil. He could twist your words around to suit his wants, he could easily smack you down to size for no reason other than his mood, and then there was the blaringly obvious fact that he was, you know, the Devil himself. That tended to put others off. His mama didn't raise a fool.

He had no need to ask for riches. The Devil could make riches easily, but he could take it away just as quickly like one of the slot machines. Why risk getting material things if they could be swept away by the whim of a petty being like the Devil? Riches only went so far, especially in Inkwell Isle.

He had no reason to ask for power or prestiage. No one could hold onto such things without gaining enemies that would backstab you while giving honey smiles. What did he have to gain if that influence was falsely given and not true power and charisma? He didn't want to be constantly looking over his shoulder and not enjoy himself just because of paranoia.

But on that same hand, what was he supposed to do? He couldn’t live working for table scraps. Well, he might’ve been able to when Bugsy was running the Casino. But since that fool had been found squished in his own home, the job of running the Casino fell to the Big Fuzz himself. There was talk that Bugsy had won the whole thing from The Devil in a game of poker, but Dice knew otherwise. Sin had an industry, and he capitalized on it. The more pressing matter was that no one, absolutely NO ONE, wanted to do business with the Devil. Almost no one wanted to try their luck in a dingy little building where there were hardly any vices to make it worth their while. And everyone wanted to avoid being in a place that was too hot, too loud, and uninviting. Nothing could help them overlook that the first Sinner, the damn incarnation of everything Bad, was running the joint.

His father worked for this place when it was under Bugsy, and it had flourished. Changed with the times. Been interesting enough to attract all kinds of folk, from a priest to a demon. There was something for everyone there, long as you stayed to look. And if you decided to run your luck, you’d at least have fun doing it.

But now…

Now. There was nothing but skeletons running the place. Some literal, some simple workers like him.

His mama didn't raise a fool. But his daddy sure as hell raised an oppurtunist. He knew how to talk with bigshots that were too blind to see what was going on beneath them. And better yet, he was willing to take the risk. This place... This casino... It needed a real man running it. Someone who knew what he was doing. Not a wet-eyed airehead who had his eyes only on money and souls.

He sighed, thumping his chest once as he strode into the office and stepped up to the big fuzz himself. “Heard you’ve been havin’ trouble keep'n’ folks in?”

The Devil snarled, his pearly white teeth gleaming under a black furred lip as he looked through a giant accounting book and penciled in a few numbers. “If yer’ worried about bein’ fired, Pip, th'n jus’ say it. Don’t try ‘n sugah’ me up none.”

He grinned, stretching his arms out comraderly. He needed to play a part of a charmer. He could do that. “Well, I ain’ too worried.” His Mama shoulda washed his mouth with soap for such a lie, but he needed to keep it going. “I jus’ think thin’s could be a lil’… Ya know. Bett'ah. Li’ when Bugsy was still in.” He shrugged his shoulders in fake nonchalance, keeping a careful eye on the Devil. His hackles were raising slightly. “No offense, Boss.”

“Offense taken r'gardless.” The Devil set the book down, and he scowled to the dice-head. “… I ain’ open to suggestin’, Pip. Now git back to the floor. Fin’ somethin’ tah do.”

He crossed his arms, huffing a little. Now was the time to go in for the kill. “There ain’ nothin’ to do. No one’s comin’ in. Not all it’s you, Boss, but no one wan’s to come inta a dump li’ this.” He saw the glint in his Boss’s eye, and knew it was now or never. “You a fine demon, but you don’ have the people skills. There’s plenty ya could do, but ya don’ wanna. Too focused on makin’ deals to realize tha’ no one wan’s to make one in an uninvitin’ place.”

Take the bait.

“You wanna bet on that, Pip?”

Hook. Line. And Sinker.

“….Sure. I can make a bet on that.”

He’d make this a decent place once more. Under his own control, or the Devil’s, didn’t matter. He was a King already, and he’d make his kingdom a fine one. He leaned on the desk, holding out a friendly hand.

“Betcha I could bring ‘n more ‘n a hundred by end’a next week.” That seemed ridiculous enough. If he could do it, that'd be impressive. If not, well... He'd cross that bridge when he came to it.

And the Devil knew it too, if he saw that grin on his face well enough. “A hundred, huh?” He tapped his cheek, considering the offer. “…. Well. Let’s see that. Bring in a hundred. Don’t, and I take that soul of yours.” He took King's hand, giving a handshake that burnt something into his pale hand.

It was risky. But Kingsley Dice knew what he was getting into.

 

…

In the end, he brought in ninety-nine.

But that impressionable Devil had been impressed. With so much gold and an impressive amount of greenbacks lining his fur pockets, who wouldn't be? That giant furball even got a few fresh souls contracted to him.

So he was forced to give the Devil his soul. But King Dice still got what he wanted. An’ that was just fine with him.


End file.
